


Intersection

by CatSnidget



Series: Paths Left Untaken [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bonds, Cheating, F/F, F/M, Familial Obligations, Inequality, Infidelity, Mates, Politics, affair
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:08:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29942205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatSnidget/pseuds/CatSnidget
Summary: Overcoming the obstacles of the world you look to the future, its all you can do to not relive the horrors of the past. Passing an ambitious piece of legislation, planning a wedding and coming face to face with an old love. Choices will be made, hearts will be broken. Will Hermione be able to keep her head above water as she navigates her own emotions and is forced to chose between an old love versus the new.
Relationships: Astoria Greengrass/Draco Malfoy, Fleur Delacour/Hermione Granger, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Daphne Greengrass, Padma Patil/Ron Weasley
Series: Paths Left Untaken [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2206278
Comments: 9
Kudos: 43





	Intersection

**Author's Note:**

> Parts 1&2
> 
> Hey guys I'm up to my old angsty agenda. I bring you this new fic. A completed parts 1&2 fic I thought would be a great way to push myself on the angst side of things.

**Intersection**

**~ Part 1 ~**

You sit on a velvet bench in the grand foille of the grand central hotel.

You wrap yourself up deeper into your custom made Malkins light brown coat, allowing the warmth to embrace you for a moment more before you face the press.

_No comment, no comment, you’ll find out about the legislation at the same time as the public_

_Easy Granger_

_You can do this_

You recite to yourself in an effort to calm your nerves.

Looking out a nearby window you watch as security forms a path.

The flashing of cameras are constant.

They go off in multitudes of directions as they seek you out.

_No comment, no comment, you’ll find out about the legislation at the same time as the public_

You recite a final time before sitting up.

You take one last calming breath as you make your way out the doors leading to your car a short distance away from the entrance to the hotel.

You lock eyes with a security guard and he gives you a firm nod.

A silent ‘it is safe to go’

In an instant you’re surrounded by an onslaught of flashing lights, a multitude of clicks going off.

“Senior Undersecretary Granger! Senior Undersecretary Granger!”

“Undersecretary Granger! Can you talk a little bit about the new upcoming blood-status legislation?”

You hear a loud boom go off to your right.

Feel the sudden loss of the warmth of your coat.

The cool feel of the marble tiles against your flesh prickles at your skin as you lie on the floor of Malfoy manor.

Your left arm throbs as the aftermath of the words carved into you glare defiantly into you.

Bellatrix Lestrange cackles over you as she admires her handy work.

“Now muddy, what did you take from my vault,” she seeths over you.

With your last bit of will-power you respond in defiance.

“I-I didn’t take anything”

“I don’t believe you!” Bellatrix screeches at you and continues to carve into you.

Her hot breath on your skin feels like poison.

Choking the life from you.

“Miss Granger! Miss Granger are you ok?” the concerned question pulls you back.

You’re back in the present, the reporters around you having momentarily ceased their incessant questioning to give you a moment of solace.

War Hero and all, they had enough decorum to give you that much respect.

Sucking in a breath.

You utter.

“Yes sorry, what was your question?”

In an instant the reporters are on you again.

“Any comment on the new legislation?”

You shift back into yourself and reply.

“No comment, you’ll find out about the legislation at the same time as the public,”

Hurrying to your waiting car you take brisk steps and get into the driver’s seat.

The security guards make way for you to pull out and leave.

You grip the steering wheel as a throbbing pain settles in your arm.

You take a calming breath and start the engine, pulling out of the grand central hotel.

Why you’d agreed to allow your assistant to book you lunch there is a worry for another day.

There are more pressing matters to attend to on this busy day.

Today was the anniversary of the final battle of Hogwarts.

A battle that claimed a multitude of casualties on both sides.

You’d seen friends and those you considered to be close to family perish at the hands of death eaters and magical creatures alike.

You shudder at the memories.

The throbbing in your arm increases and you decide to stop on the side of the road.

A multitude of trees surround you, after all the countryside is rather more abundant in them than the city and you’re grateful for that.

Grateful for all of it really.

The ability to be able to do something as nonsensical as drive a vehicle.

Something so muggle.

Yet so necessary to help remind you from where you come from.

To teether you to your place of origins.

To help remind you of your parents and the car rides you’d take with them on days such as this.

A way to help you feel connected to them, even though they’re long since lost to you.

You turn off your engine and allow yourself to sit back.

You take a long breath to still your racing heartbeat.

Days such as this, had a way of bringing forth both nostalgia and sorrow.

Of those you’ve lost, those who’ve left you.

_‘Why ze sad face mon amor,’_

You shake your head at the brief memory.

After 10 years why did that memory filter through the recesses of your mind.

You take a few calming breaths.

Why?

Why, Why, Why.

She left you behind.

She doesn’t deserve to occupy your thoughts.

You won’t allow it to happen.

Not after all that you’ve overcome.

The heartache.

The emotional strife.

The feeling of desolation.

The empty feeling you felt after she left you.

A few stray tears fall down your cheeks as the years pass you by.

The air of war on the horizon.

The uncertainty.

Was the day promised?

You had no way of knowing back then.

Helping Harry find the Horcruxes and defeat Voldemort was the only thing you were certain of.

Would you survive it?

You had no way of knowing.

It was with this in mind that you’d opted to erasing all memories of you from their thoughts and memories.

A powerful spell you’d discovered after much anguish.

It would devastate you to lose them.

You didn’t want to lose them.

But it was the only way to keep them safe.

It was all you could do.

You were only a girl of 17 years of age at the time.

What else could you do in your desperation?

And so it was with a heavy heart that you erased yourself from them.

All of their memories, all existence of you ceased to exist for them in an instant.

It broke you to feel the loss, but it needed to happen.

And you were hopeful that if you made it out of this war you’d one day be able to find them and get them back.

It was that, that held you together.

That and the promise of Fleur.

The french witch quarter veela that you’d met your 4th year of schooling.

Who’d identified you as her “mate”

A foreign concept you hadn’t been familiar with at the time.

But that you’re new found ‘friend’ at the time had been quick to fill you in on.

For those with veela blood, a humanoid race of magical semi-humans said to be descended from the sirens of old.

Theirs was a proud race that had inter-mingled with muggle and wizard alike.

Producing beautiful offspring.

Progeny that could find their chosen partner.

That one person in the entire world that was their perfect match.

In every conceivable way.

Fleur had pursued you your 4th year, although you’d been reluctant to start anything with the older girl.

That is how a friendship was struck between the two of you, a friendship that developed into a relationship a couple of years later.

A relationship you were hoping would be enough to hold you together as you’d been forced to say goodbye to your parents.

You’d been so sure Fleur would stay by your side through it all.

However the world had been all the cruler to you.

You’d gambled and lost.

Lost your parents and the one other person that had promised to be there with you

_‘Til ze end of time mon amie’_

Her cruel words still etched in the farthest recesses of your mind.

You should have known better than to rely on those words.

But you’d been young and in love, in the middle of a war, in the middle of losing everything you held dear.

And really who were you really to keep her tied down to such a wretched country.

A country known for its open bigotry.

Towards anyone with an ounce of ‘un-normalcy’

Anyone that did not fit the perfect definition of ‘wizard’

The ministry at the time had started to build a registry for pete’s sake!

You should have known that her time with you was limited.

Just how limited you’d never have been able to decipher it.

You’d apparated for her humble flat soon after erasing your parent’s memories.

Only to see an empty flat.

The proprietor of the complex letting you know that the occupant had moved out that morning.

The morning you had spent eliminating your parents memories of you.

You’d confided in her about those plans.

She’d held you close as you’d bared your soul, your anguish.

And had promised to stay by your side.

That had proved to be a lie on her part.

She hadn’t meant any of those words.

Had she meant any of the things she’d told you?

Had she even loved you?

Where you really her so called “mate”

That one perfect person meant just for her?

Had any of it been real?

Had you ever meant anything to her?

Or were you just a passing fancy?

You’d asked yourself all of these questions and more as you’d tried to piece together the heartache you’d felt at her abandoning you.

But could you have really blamed her?

The ministry had started to round up muggle borns, half bloods and those of creature blood.

Anyone without proven pure-blood status was considered wretched and a blight upon wizarding Britain.

Persecution.

It was the bluntest way to have put it.

Bigotry.

They’d made anyone without pure-blood status feel less than.

You’d felt it yourself as the war loomed ever closer.

You really couldn’t have blamed Fleur for leaving.

This was not her country.

Not her place to lay her life on the line.

Even if it was for you.

You weren’t worth much.

The self-loathing you’d felt at the time.

Who were you really to have kept her.

You’d resigned yourself to the harsh reality.

You were alone in this cruel world.

But you had a duty to your country and the people who lived in it.

Those who dared to be different, who couldn't’ help but not fit the mold dictated.

You would fight to the bitter end to ensure a brighter future for those to come.

And so it was with this resolve that you threw yourself into the war.

Endured the persecution as you Harry and Ron ran from the snatchers.

As you were bound and gagged and dumped at Malfoy manor.

Left to the mercy of Bellatrix Lestrange.

And left with the wretched reminder.

That you were nothing more than a _mudblood_.

A plaything for those of pure-blood status.

Left to feel worthless.

To feel like all your fight had been for naught.

Like your existence had been a cruel joke.

Left to feel the cruelty of the hands of the eldest Black sister as she carved the reminder into your arm.

To feel like your light would be snuffed out.

What followed soon after you can only piece together with the vague memories you have of the night.

The cold press of a knife against your neck.

A crash of a chandelier.

Ron’s arms as he held you to him.

Harry’s cries as he held Dobby's limp body to him.

_‘We have to help him…..help! Help me! Mione!......’_

You’d filtered in and out of consciousness as the days passed by.

Not knowing if you’d make it to the next day.

The soothing hands of Bill Weasley’s, Ron’s eldest brother, wife Penelope Clearwater as she tended to your wounds.

Harry and Ron’s soft cries as they kept vigil by your bedside.

Their pleas for you to wake up.

To come back to them.

It was this that kept you from passing on in those bleak days.

How easy it would have been to just let go.

And be rid of the pain of this cruel world

But you couldn’t leave them.

Your boys, your best friends.

So you willed yourself to live.

To keep going for the good of the wizarding world.

For those marginalized people, that did not have a voice of their own.

For the chance to make a difference.

For your friends and those you had left.

You pushed on with the strength that remained to you.

And you fought.

You faced the evils that threatened to throw the world into chaos.

Stared death in the face.

And found love in the most unexpected of places.

Daphne Greengrass a Slytherin that took up the call when Slytherin House was tested.

The lone Slytherin to take up the mantle and fight for the good of the wizarding world.

She’d surprised all those present in the great hall when Voldemort’s threatening words had rang throughout.

_“Turn Harry Potter over to me and no harm shall come to you,’_

What had followed was the subsequent shout of anger from Pansy Parkinson.

_‘What are you all waiting for! There he is! Turn him in!’_

Her demand had come to no surprise to you, she’d always held a distaste for Harry.

But what had surprised you all was the subsequent slap that followed.

Daphne Greengrass, a brunette haired pureblood that wasn’t known for her dark or light affiliation, had marched right up to the Parkinson girl and delivered a resounding slap.

You watched on as Daphne stared Pansy down and openly called her the shame of Slytherin house.

She’d been the lone 7th year from her house to stand firm and fight.

She’d fought alongside you and Ron as you’d tried to battle Nagini.

Had watched in wrapt horror as Neville Longbottom sliced through the serpent as it hurtled towards you.

And as Harry finally vanquished the Dark Lord.

What followed could only be described as jubilation.

The evil that had threatened the wizarding world had finally been vanquished.

The threat of persecution had finally been defeated.

Or so you had thought at the time.

For the laws that had helped his rise to power remained.

And with them, much needed change.

You’d struck up a friendship of sorts with the eldest Greengrass daughter.

She’d been instrumental in helping to pull you out of the depression that followed you soon after.

You’d lost your parents.

Had no idea where they’d gone too.

As you’d discovered much to your horror they’d moved not long after you’d erased yourself from their memories.

You’d lost the one person whom you’d thought would be there for you.

Who’d promised you the world.

And had subsequently left you in the end as the war loomed near.

You had nothing, nobody waiting for you.

No one to come home to after the bloody war you’d endured.

And the endless nightmares that came with them.

Harry and Ron had tried to get you to join the Auror program with them.

Thinking in their own boy-ish way that more combat would help pull you from the depression that oozed from your being.

You’d thanked them both for their concern, but had opted to decline their offer.

And decided to spend some solitary time with yourself.

You’d gotten opted for a flat near Diagon Alley, a good choice on your part as it’d been close to the shops and your therapist at the time.

And it was a way for you distance yourself from the expectations of reality.

What those around you expected from you.

To bounce back in your own Hermione way from the trauma of the war.

You hadn’t wanted to disappoint them by proving them wrong.

You fell into a deep depression the months following the end of the war.

And you’d had no idea how to pull yourself out of it.

Succumbing to the crumbling anxiety and depth of sadness that consumed you.

You had no one.

You’d lost your parents.

Lost Fleur.

Lost friends.

School mates.

It was all too much.

And so you fell into a rhythm.

Wake up, attempt to feed yourself, bathe, attempt a walk around the block.

Repeat.

Taking the occasional trip to the nearby market for sustenance.

Which proved to be far and few inbetween.

It was hard to get out of the flat to begin with.

Let alone trudge the block and a half it took to get to the grocers.

It was during one of these outings that you’d had the fateful encounter with Daphne.

She’d been picking up some ingredients for dinner when you’d accidentally bumped into her.

She’d taken one look at you and had somehow known that you hadn’t been doing so well.

Had been bold to invite herself over that evening and make you dinner in a tentative attempt at friendship.

You hadn’t really had enough time to say to her.

Mind going a mile a minute at what exactly was going on.

But had appreciated the kind gesture.

And that’s how your friendship with the elder Greengrass had started.

She was greatly instrumental in pulling you back from your depression.

A godsend really.

When you look back on the day she confessed her feelings for you.

It had completely caught you off guard and had at first asked if she’d been joking.

Much to her amusement as she’d held your hand in hers and looked you straight in the eye and repeated those fateful words.

_‘I like you as more than a friend Hermione,’_

The blush that had adored her cheeks was a unique hue of red.

Unlike anything you’d seen before.

But you found that you couldn’t look away.

As your heart hammered in your chest and you couldn’t help but move forward to capture your lips with hers.

She’d been shocked at the action but had quickly reciprocated in turn.

Pushing back every so slightly against you as she molded herself to you.

Held you close by the lapels of your coat.

In that moment you felt happy.

Overjoyed and elated.

She’d found a way into your broken heart.

And had little by little helped you piece yourself together.

A relationship with Daphne felt natural and like the answer to your silent prayers.

And she only proved you more and more right as you both moved forward in the new development.

Held you close when you woke up in the middle of the night.

Assured you that you were safe.

That the people in your nightmares couldn’t hurt you.

That you were safe.

And loved.

Kissed away each tear.

And loved you as you were.

Saved you from the sinking ship.

Pulled you from the brink.

Encouraged you when you needed it the most.

Assured you that you could do anything.

In the moments where you needed it most.

Was greatly instrumental in getting you back into the fray.

Encouraged you as you applied for an entry level position within the Ministry.

To make a positive impact.

To do away with all the laws that sought to put down those of lesser blood status.

Lesser than what was deemed ‘pure-blood’

That seeked to oppose.

To oppress.

To make those of mixed blood status to feel less than.

You had a mission and a call to answer.

Daphne encouraged you through it all.

Hugged you in jubilation as you were promoted throughout the years.

Sang your praises as you achieved the position of Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic himself.

And just loved you.

And you loved her in turn for all of it.

She didn’t need to love you.

To make you feel like you mattered all those years ago.

But she had and you were ever so grateful for that fateful day.

The feeling that blossomed in your chest that this amazing woman was yours.

And that in a few short months you'd be able to call her your wife.

You’d proposed the year prior and she’d said yes much to your delight.

And to the delight of your friends as they’d been the first people you’d told right after.

Your life after the war had started rather bleak.

But slowly you’d managed to piece it back together.

Had managed to piece yourself back together.

You grip your steering wheel as you reminisce.

Letting the emotions pass through you.

You shudder.

The throbbing in your arm has started to subside as you take a deep breath and turn the ignition once more and take off onto the road.

You had a beautiful woman waiting for you.

And a party to head to.

\---- - - x ---------

“I was starting to worry,” Daphne mutters into you as she engulfs you in an embrace.

You embrace her in turn, holding her to you.

“Just needed a moment to collect myself,” you reply in turn.

She pulls back to give you an encouraging smile and further pulls away from your embrace to get her coat and purse.

Tonight was the 10th anniversary of the battle of Hogwarts.

The Ministry had pulled out all the stops and had arranged for an opulent soiree.

Foreign dignitaries would be in attendance to join the celebration.

And you were more than expected to attend as the Minister’s right hand.

The architect of equality as they’d started to call you.

Your many strides at drafting many a legislation to better the quality of life for those of mixed blood status.

Your eternal fight to ensure a brighter future for the generations to come.

Yes you were well known across the world.

Not just as the Golden girl of the famous Golden Trio, the brains of the operation.

But as a juggernaut for equality.

You’d worked tirelessly since your first day as a ministry official.

Had worked many a late night to make sure that those of mixed blood status would never be discriminated against by the laws in place.

Where set to unveil a law that would nail what you hoped would be the final nail in the proverbial coffin for those that sought to put those of mixed blood status down.

“Ready to go Mione?” Daphne’s words filtered into your thoughts, pulling you back to the present.

Before you stood a woman of great beauty, there was a steadiness to her, a kind and cleverness that danced around her as she gazed at you.

A smile that was perfectly accentuated by a pair of full lips.

Rosy cheeks that spoke of a passionate and reassuring love.

And a fire that threatened to engulf you at every turn.

Hair that fell in waves of pureness and serenity.

You can only nod in turn as you extend your arm for her to take.

You’d opted for wearing a simple sophisticated black suit to the event.

A nice contrast to the emerald green dress she’d chosen for the evening.

She gives you a small kiss on the cheek as you nod in turn and apparate to the event.

The newly built.

Grand Central Hotel.

\-- - - - x - - - - -

Upon arrival you’d been whisked from diplomate to diplomate.

Greeting each foreign dignitary as was expected of you as the 2nd in command to the Minister.

Daphne had in turn charmed all who came before you.

Being as supportive as she could to you.

She knew how nervous you often got as the reminder of your trauma reared its ugly head each passing year.

Was there to support you through the night.

Only briefly stopping to greet a fellow socialite friend.

As Daphne was after all the eldest daughter to the Greengrass family.

She was a pureblood, and the current heiress to her family’s fortune.

One of two scions to her family name.

Her younger sister Astoria having married into the Malfoy family.

She’d be in attendance with her husband Draco.

The name brought a range of mixed emotions to the surface for you as you remembered the trials that followed after the war.

Your testimony of the torture you’d endured at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange was what had sent his father to azkaban for good.

It had been a rather awkward first meeting when Astoria had brought him along for Saturday night dinner.

He’d been uncertain on how you’d treat him becoming involved with your love’s younger sister.

But in your own way you’d somewhat understood him, a fellow victim of the war.

Of the choices taken from him.

Another casualty of the war trying to piece the pieces of his own psyche together in turn.

You’d found a sort of piece and got on rather well.

Had even playfully threatened to cut off his nads should he harm Astoria in any way on their wedding day.

He’d playfully said the same to you at your engagement party a couple months prior.

Taking a flute of drink from a passing waiter you looked on into the crowd.

You watched Daphne animatedly talk to an old friend.

Harry and Ginny filter about as they greeted old friends throughout the ball room.

Ron and his wife Padma do the same as they bashfully spoke to a famous quidditch player in attendance.

It brought a smile to your face.

You’d all really come a long way.

Taking a breath to steady yourself you moved forward to rejoin Daphne’s side before catching a glance of familiar silvery blonde hair from the corner of your eye.

Your pulse quickens in an instant as you turn in the direction of the silvery hair.

You see nothing.

Had it been your eyes playing a trick on you?

Had you seen right?

Perhaps a trick of the light?

Yeah.

It must have been a trick of the light.

You assure yourself as you shake your head at the confusion and move the rest of the way to Daphne’s side, greeting her friends in turn.

Today was a night to celebrate the ending of an evil not to reminisce about lost loves.

\------ x -------

_“Equality for all! No more should any individual be made to feel less than! Our fervent wish is to give all equal rights as it should have been and as it shall be!”_

The minister, Kingsley Shakelbolt had given a riveting speech on the merits of the new piece of legislation set to be enacted into law.

You would be working alongside officials from every wizarding country in the european continent to ensure its introduction into law.

Not just for your country but for those that also sought to ensure the same for their own.

You would be meeting with their officials in the coming days.

Daphne had looked into your eyes at the same instant the flash of a camera had gone off.

As Kingsly’s words rang throughout the ballroom, for all in attendance.

You had in turn looked back in turn with all the love in your heart.

Today was truly a day to rejoice and feel happiness.

Your many years of hard work were finally going to pay off.

However you couldn’t help but think back on the silvery hair you had seen.

Had it really been a trick of the light?

There was no possible way for _her_ of all people to be in attendance.

She’d never shown an interest in politics when you’d been together.

What reason would she have to be present at an event such as this?

You push all of these waring thoughts to the back of your mind as you feel the gentle caress of Daphne’s gentle hands on your cheeks.

She pulls you to her as her hands push your coat down your shoulders.

After a long night of celebration.

You’d finally made your way back home.

To your simple two story home in the countryside.

The home that you’d built together with Daphne.

Whereupon aparating back home had Daphne given you the ever inviting eyes of a woman that desired more.

You’d only done the natural thing and given in to her request.

And allowed the night to take you into nirvana.

  * \- - - - x - - - - -



“We will be meeting with the french delegation to discuss the framework for the merging of laws across the channels,” your assistant droned on as he walked in step beside you.

After a long week of preparation it was finally time to put your plans in motion.

The long awaited time for growth and progress was upon you.

You’d worn your best robes for the occasion.

Black slacks with an elegant white dress shirt, a dark brown coat to accentuate your figure.

Daphne had taken one look at you and threatened to ravish you on the spot where it not for the time constraint and your upcoming meeting.

Yes.

Today was the day.

You could feel the rapid beating of your heart as you walked a step closer to the meeting room.

You hadn’t been nervous to start.

Why on earth were you feeling such anxiety?

You couldn't rationally explain it.

As you neared ever closer to the room in question.

The hairs on the back of your neck standing at attention.

Your pulse quickens.

Finally coming to a stop before a pair of doors.

You chance a quick glance at your assistant as he stands beside you.

He gives you a slight nod and moves forward to open the door.

You take a small intake of air before stepping forward.

What awaits you, you could not have prepared yourself for.

For before you is Fleur Delacour.

Seated at the end of a long table overlooking a few pieces of parchment.

You want to quickly turn around and flee before she can chance to look up at your stunned face.

But you will yourself to stop.

You in turn steel yourself and present your most solemn face.

You will yourself not to reveal to much upon your features.

Its been 10 years since she left you.

Since you last chanced to look upon her visage.

You will not buckle underneath the weight of her presence.

The seconds feel like they tick on for an eternity before she looks up and her stunned face tells you everything in an instant.

But you do not yield.

You will not.

Your heartbeat continues to beat ever harder against your ribcage as you feel all the years melt away.

And suddenly its just you and her in the room.

All else is forgotten and its just the two of you in that moment.

Staring at each other from across the cosmos.

Daring the other to make the first move.

Thankfully however your assistant announces your arrival.

And pulls you from the trance you’d found yourself in.

You pull your gaze away as you greet Fleur, give her a business like nod and take a seat at the other end of the table.

Your assistant one step behind you.

You could not be more grateful for his presence in this moment.

He takes a seat on one side of you as you are presented with several documents.

You glance through them quickly for you wrote a good deal of the content within them.

You give him a thankful nod as more people filter into the room.

You have more pressing matters to attend to than those of a long lost love.

\- - - - - x - - - -

After a long informative discussion your delegation and those of the French ministry were finally in agreement.

The law across the channels would work in tandem.

There would never be a risk of a registry ever again.

Especially not on the basis of one’s blood status.

Or any status for that matter.

After much debate you’d come to the understanding that you were all in agreement.

The old archaic laws of old, those favoring solely purebloods would be no more.

No longer would anyone of any blood status be made to feel persecuted.

A universal agreement had been made between the British and French.

Much to your pleasure and displeasure as you had quickly found out that Fleur would be heading the initiative on the french side of things.

You’d wanted to be as far away from the quarter veela as possible.

The once dormant feelings within you bubbling to the surface as you snuck a glance or two during the meeting.

Hoping to the powers that be that you would not be caught.

It made no reasonable sense really, for you to feel this way.

You were past this.

You were a different person than you’d been 10 years ago.

This should in no way affect you as much as it was.

No sooner had the meeting ended, than you’d thanked the foreign officials for their time and excused yourself.

You’d taken deliberate quick steps away from the meeting room.

The faster you could be away from that woman the better.

You didn’t need this, especially now of all times.

When you were so close to realizing one of your greatest dreams.

You didn’t need the emotions and strife that came with Fleur Delacour.

No sooner had you made it down the hallway leading to one of the floo network chambers than you had felt a familiar grip on your arm.

The very arm where Bellatrix Lestrange had etched _mudblood_ into all those years ago.

Spinning around to quickly meet the person you so dreaded would be on the other end of the grip.

Fleur Delacour’s deep pools of blue met your own golden brown as she keeps her gaze locked with yours.

_What do you want with me?_

Your silent plea as you keep your eyes locked with hers.

“Do you ‘ave a moment to catch a cup of coffee wiz me?” her sudden question as she lets your arm go.

“Just a cup?” You instinctively reply.

The suddenness of your words catching you off guard.

Why had you bothered to answer her question?

You didn’t owe her anything.

Much less a cup of coffee.

However strange the response, you could not explain it.

Or could you?

A long since forgotten pull engulfing you as you watch the older witch give you a small nod.

You nod in turn and lead the two of you to the floo network chambers.

Through the floo network and out the entrance of Diagon Alley.

Down the ever familiar cobblestones leading you to Madam Efilets, a coffee shop that had recently gained popularity with the populace.

It doesn’t take long for a waitress to recognize you and make quick work of showing you to a table, and taking your orders.

A simple cup of coffee, three sugars and two cream.

Fleur’s order; coffee black no sugar or cream.

Seems old habits were hard to kick as she hadn’t changed her preferences, even in the years that had passed.

No sooner had your orders gone out than they’d come back.

Very quick service.

But you expected no less as it seemed the whole of the wizarding world was willing to bend over backwards for you, Harry and Ron.

The Golden Trio that helped vanquish the Dark Lord.

You take a tentative sip of your coffee as you steady your rapidly beating heart.

Fleur across from you taking a sip from her own cup.

After all the years that had passed she hadn’t changed a wink.

Still had the same ethereal beauty about her, than all those winters ago when you’d met her.

That fateful day when you’d locked eyes amidst the chilly winter air.

Had been met with her piercing gaze as she looked deep within you.

And you’d been content enough to let her in the inexperience of your youth.

But you were older now.

And many a thing had transpired between the two of you, for you to fall for the inexperience of youth.

Allowing the warmth of the liquid down your throat you take a moment to steel yourself as you set your cup down and look up to meet her gaze head on.

She’s ever the cool beauty you remember as she meets your hard gaze with her own.

“I was surprised to see you heading the talks with our delegation,” she starts, gaze never leaving yours.

You do not back down from her gaze and answer in turn.

“As was I, how long has it been ten or so years?” you challenge in turn.

She has the decency to look away from you for a moment.

No sooner do you feel a feeling of triumph than her hands are upon yours and your eyes shoot to your hairline and you look at her in silent shock.

“Ten long years,” she mutters, many feelings conveyed in those simple words.

You want to pull your hands away.

But you find yourself unable to as she holds your hands in hers.

You give yourself these short few moments to allow yourself to go back to the past.

To the feeling of security you felt all those years ago.

When you still had your parents, when the war hadn’t wrought its pain upon you.

When you still had everything near and dear to your heart.

When you still had her.

No sooner does the feeling of a long lost innocence fill you, than you pull your hands away as if burnt.

This woman left you.

Left you in your darkest of times to rot.

To face the world alone.

To bare the brunt of the wickedness of the world.

Alone.

You did not need her now.

Not when you’d come so far without her.

When you’d built yourself up.

When you had Daphne.

A woman who truly loved you and who’d been there to help you through your darkest of times.

And who continued to stand by you as you faced every new challenge.

Who was not afraid to stand by your side through it all.

You look at Fleur with uncertainty.

A feeling of dread has started to pool at the pit of your stomach and you cannot shake it.

“I have not stopped thinking of you,” She utters.

And you cannot help the thud of your heart as it jackhammers against your chest.

The feeling of want, desire, happiness and revulsion all mix together as you struggle to piece your emotions together.

You wear your heart like a stolen dream, hoping inside that the broken key will piece it together.

Will keep it from breaking altogether.

From the onslaught of emotions that threaten to break the dam you so carefully built.

You do not dare to honor her statement with a response.

So you simply look back at her with the most stoic face you can muster.

Hoping to all that it will suffice.

She is not deterred much to your chagrin.

She stares back at you with a resolve you have only seen in her once before.

Back when she’d claimed to love you and to never leave your side.

“I made a mistake leaving you all those years, I don’t intend to make it again,” she utters as she looks into you.

Sees you for who and what you are.

You find the fight within you in that brief instant and get up.

Hands slamming down on the table.

Startling both her and yourself.

“The only mistake is that I allowed you this meeting, I think we’re done here,” you find yourself uttering with the last bit of willpower left to you.

She stares back at you in wrapt hurt.

You can only stare back defiantly as the anger of the last ten years courses through you.

She left you.

You don’t owe her anything.

How dare she think that she can simply walk back into your life.

You rummage in your coat for a few bills and slap them onto the table. swiftly turn and walk away.

You don’t chance to look back.

A small voice in the darkest recess of your mind telling you that if you do, will your willpower break.

So you keep moving forward and aparate a moment later.

You startle Daphne as you aparate directly into her office room in your spacious home.

She does not question it as you move towards her and engulf her in an embrace.

As you wrap her in your arms and hold her tightly to you.

She hugs you back in turn and whispers sweet words of comfort.

She does not need an explanation.

She just knows that you need her in that moment.

And she accepts that.

She leads you to your shared bedroom a moment later and allows you to bury yourself into her as you lay on your bed.

No words need be uttered.

She has been with you through your worst and understands.

She is there for you.

As she's always been.

And so you let yourself drift off into the safety of your dreams.

Where the horrors of the past cannot harm you.

Where old loves cannot reach you.

Where you are safe.

And you do not have to deal with the emotions of the past.

For you have already overcome them.

Right?

\--------- - - - - -x - - - - - - -

Another day of endless meetings with the french delegation brought another meeting with Fleur.

Her team and yours would have numerous meetings to ensure the swift transition for your country into the new reality.

The new peaceful transition of equality for all.

No longer would anyone be made to feel persecuted.

The culmination of your many years of battle.

Would finally become a reality for your country.

Your team had taken numerous notes from the French delegation as they’d outlined how the pacing of the law would affect both creature, wizard and witch alike.

Had listened with rapt attention as the french representatives helped you with the transition process.

You were grateful for the opportunity before you as you watched your team nod in agreement.

As much as you appreciated the help you couldn't’ help but dread the culmination of the day.

For with it came the ever threat of Fleur seeking you out.

You could only watch on as your team voiced their thanks for another profitable day of positive feedback.

Another day of good tidings.

Another step in the right direction for your dreams to become a reality.

Could only watch as your team filtered out of the room as you were left with only Fleur to watch you as you made to get up and depart.

She made no move to stop you as you did not chance to look back at the heated gaze of emotion she sent your way.

You could feel the intensity of her desire.

Her want.

As you retreated up and out of the room.

Could still feel it upon your back as you aparated up and away from that room.

As you made your way through your home and to Daphne.

As you took her in your arms and kissed her senseless.

As you took her to bed.

As you kissed your way down her thighs.

And drowned yourself in her essence.

\----- xxx ------

Another day another step closer towards equality.

Is what you tell yourself as you sit in on another meeting with the french delegation.

Fleur’s intensity has not abated it would seem.

If anything it is a roaring fire.

And you cannot do naught but try to endure it for the sake of the meeting.

You will not dignify her looks with anything more than talks of official ministry business.

Its all you can do really as you nod in agreement with a statement from a french official.

With any luck you’d be able to effortlessly escape the room as soon as the meeting ended.

\------------ x -----------

Gathering your things to you, you make a point to avoid Fleur’s heated gaze.

It’d been as ever present as the day prior much to your annoyance.

You’d really hoped she’d take the hint you gave her.

You wanted nothing to do with her.

That ship had long since sunk.

Or so you keep telling yourself.

But you can’t deny the hammering in your chest as you sit in the same room as the older witch.

You haven’t been able to get it to stop the rapid thudding.

The long lost unnatural pull you felt towards the french witch had also decided to rear its ugly head much to your frustration.

You have more pressing matters to think of at present though.

So you really shouldn’t concern yourself with thoughts of Fleur.

They deserve no space in your life.

“Ermione?” Fleur’s thick accent filters through your thoughts.

You turn to face her, before you stands Fleur in a simple long navy pencil skirt and a business casual white blouse.

You’re briefly pulled to a much simpler time.

But you shake it off just as soon as the memory filters into your head.

No.

You’d had just about enough of this nonsense.

“Miss Delacour?” you respond to her question with one of your own.

She looks at you in mild amusement before responding.

“Do you ‘ave a few minutes to go over ze documentation wiz me regarding ze sub-paragraph section in ze tertiary section of ze bill?”

She looks at you expectantly.

And you bite back the biting retort you’d like to respond with.

Instead opting for a legitimate reason for why you would rather be doing anything else than spending another minute more with the french national.

“I’m sorry but I’m unable to, I’ve a prior engagement to get to, but I would be more than happy to have my assistant make any necessary corrections,”

She’s caught off guard by your response.

It gives you the opportunity to quickly excuse yourself and make your way out the door and down the corridor leading to the floo networks.

You're in the clear.

Or so you think as you hear a familiar pair of heels a moment later.

You feel a familiar hold as you spin around and come face to face with Fleur once more.

She looks at you with a determined gaze.

“Ave I done somzing to displease you?”

Hah! She has the nerve to actually utter this question.

The audacity of it.

You in turn pull your wrist from her grip and give her an uncomfortable glance back.

“Why would you assume so? I’ve already informed you that I’ve a prior engagement to get too, so if you could please,”

You respond in turn.

You really did have somewhere to be.

And you would be bordering on tardiness if you taried a moment longer.

“An engagement?” Fleur asks you. A questionative look on her face.

Was she trying to catch you in a lie?

You really weren’t.

You collect yourself and let out a mildly frustrated sigh.

“I’ve a tasting to get to for my wedding,” you respond.

The stunned hurt look Fleur gives you in turn both sets your nerve on edge, infuriates you and hurts you all at once.

“Your wedding?” she asks, losing some of her previous bravado.

“Yes, I’ve been engaged since last fall,” you respond.

Why you designed to honor her question with a response is beyond you.

But you’ve done it, and now it's all in the open.

Maybe now she’ll leave you alone.

Her gaze does not leave you however.

She stares at you with those familiar pools of cerulean.

As if searching for an alternative answer, one not like the one you’ve just given her.

As if almost willing your words to be falsities.

You give her a nod and excuse yourself once more.

Its been a long day and you’d rather be by Daphne’s side trying a multitude of foods.

For your wedding.

The one you are set to be having towards the end of the year.

To the woman that’s been your rock for the past 10 or so years.

You remind yourself.

The unspoken question at the back of your mind asks ‘are you sure about that?’

But you shake it off and enter the floo network.

Away from Fleur.

And the nonsense.

\--------- x -------------

As the week went by you found yourself falling into a comfortable rhythm.

Fleur had taken to not approaching you or attempting to make any further contact with you outside of the times your teams met.

Which had made getting through the hardest parts of the legislation smoother.

And for that you were grateful.

You even found yourself humming as you made your way down the now familiar corridor leading to the floo networks.

Perhaps you and Daph could go out and catch a muggle movie at the cinema tonight, a nice change from the monotony of work and preparing for your upcoming wedding.

So wrapped in your own thoughts had you been than you’d failed to notice a familiar pair of heels behind you.

Not until you’d made to pull open the door leading to the floo network then you’d felt the other presence in the hallway.

You turn to face the french witch.

She looks at you with an air of stoic-sadness.

For that’s the only way you can describe the look on her features.

“Can I help you with anything Miss. Delacour?” you ask, breaking the silence.

She startles from whatever mental reverie she’d been having, not having expected you to speak first.

“It iz not mai place nor are you obligated to give me a response, ‘owever the facts being as zey are, I owe you an explanation for what transpired between ze two of oz many years ago,”

You're stunned speechless at her words.

Not missing a beat she goes on.

“I ‘urt you wizout zo much ‘as an explanation and for zat I must atone, I owe you zat much,”

She looks at you with that familiar fire you remember from your youth.

The fire of a determined woman.

You know that there is no deterring her once she’s set her mind to something.

Guess now’s a good time as any for closure.

Not that you need it.

_“Liar,’_ the small voice in the back of your head utters.

You reluctantly nod after a few tense moments.

“But only this once,” you warn, raising your finger.

She gives you a solemn nod in turn and you motion for her to lead the way.

She leads you out the floo network and down an unfamiliar road leading to a small coffee shop.

Muggle?

That’s a surprising change for the quarter-veela.

She hadn’t known a single thing about the muggle world much less braved frequenting any muggle shops.

You should thank your lucky stars.

Less chance of the wizarding paparazzi catching you in a secluded muggle coffee shop.

Much less with your ex-girlfriend of all people.

You place your orders and wait for them to be ready before taking a seat in the most secluded corner of the humble establishment.

You take a calming breath as you take a sip from your warm drink.

You place it down and stare at Fleur’s waiting eyes.

She takes a deep breath before speaking.

You can’t help but feel your pulse quicken.

“I left all zos years ago, for fear of persecution, of the coming war zat your country was ‘eading into,” she starts to explain.

You can’t stop the biting retort that forces itself past your lips.

“Could have left me a note,” you bring your cup to your lips once more in an effort to keep your mouth occupied and from throwing any more snide comments her way.

She at least has the decorum to look remorseful at your comment.

“It was also a moment of youthful rebellion, I was fighting a pre-destined destiny, one zat I was not sure I’d made for myself or if it had been made for me by my creature blood,”

You grip your cup at her words.

She left you without so much as a note because of an act of rebellion?

Left you to feel like your relationship hadn’t mattered.

To pick up the pieces of your broken heart.

For what?

Rebellion?

The persecution you could understand.

Could excuse, for you more than any understood what it was like to be persecuted on the basis of your blood.

You didn’t and wouldn’t fault her for that.

The emotions of the past bubble to the surface.

And your 17 once more.

Your alone.

Afraid.

You don’t know what will happen as the war looms in the horizon.

But what you do know is that you’ve been rejected.

Left behind.

She hadn’t even had the decency to leave you a note.

For leaving you.

You’re startled from your thoughts by the gentle touch of her hand as she places it over yours.

You pull it back.

As if burnt.

“I think I’ve heard just about all I can bear,” you say as you get up. You quickly rummage in your pocket and pull out a few bills and set them on the table.

“You clearly didn’t care enough for me back then, why should I listen to anything else you have to say,” you bite out as you allow your feet to lead you out of the coffee shop.

You’ve taken a few steps outside the shop when you're pulled back.

“Don’t touch me!” you shout in defence as the taller witch lets your hand go.

You will not be cowed in this moment.

To see reason.

For a brief moment of your life you want to just feel and allow yourself to express your fury.

But you don’t get to.

Fleur grabs you by the hand once more and drags you down a secluded alley away from any would be bystanders.

You want to get away from this, this.

_“Liar!”_ the voice in the back of your head shouts.

“Will you just listen to me” she pleads with you as she lets go of your hand.

She looks at you with desperate eyes.

Willing you to listen.

To understand.

But in this moment you cannot.

You will not.

“Why should I, its not like you gave any regard for my feelings when you just up and left me without so much as a note telling me where you were going? Noooo! I had to find out for myself when your landlord told me you’d moved that morning! The morning I was erasing myself from my parent’s memories, which you knew because you’d I’d told you the night before!,”

Your seething.

“Why should I listen to you! When you had no regard for me, or respect for our relationship!”

You can feel your rapidly beating heart as you will the tears to stay inside.

To not spill forth.

You will not become a mess.

You can’t.

Not after all these years.

Not for this woman of all people.

“Zat is not true!” she pleads with you as she looks at you.

In your state you probably looked murderous.

You felt murderous.

“I really don’t have to listen to this,”

“I really don’t” you bristle as you shake your head and turn to leave.

“Have a nice life, but kindly stay out of mine,” you retort as you sigh and start to walk away.

What transpires next you could only describe as the beginning of the end of your simple, stable life.

You’d look back on this day as the day everything changed.

“I still love you!” Fleur shouts at your retreating form.

It stops you in your tracks.

And you simply stand there.

You don’t turn to look back at her.

Instead you're pulled back by a pair of strong arms.

And a pair of lips crash into yours.

You initially try to pull away.

But Fleur is ever steadfast.

She does not let you go as she holds you to her.

Does not bend.

In this moment she conveys the depth of her longing.

Her passion.

How long had it been since you’d last felt this complete and utter feeling of wholeness.

As much as you regret the weight of those words.

Much less what they may mean.

You don’t dwell on the implications.

In that moment you feel the dam break and you meet her fervent kiss with your own.

You push back against her as you battle for dominance.

You allow yourself to feel and breathe for what seems the first time in a long while.

You allow yourself to be swept up in the passion that this woman manages to instill in you.

All else disappears but the two of you.

And in that singular moment.

You drown.

**Intersection**

**~ Part 2 ~**

You’re a selfish woman Fleur Delacour.

You think of no one but yourself.

Don’t allow others to get close to you.

Let alone touch you.

You’ll accept no other except for _her_.

Her touch has carved upon you an eternal mark.

One that can’t be easily broken.

No other can compare.

She opened your soul.

And laid you bare.

You owe no other an explanation but her.

Funny how much difference a gap of several years can do.

You can still remember that crisp autumn day when you chanced to look upon her.

A flighty little thing of five and ten name days.

Wrapped in a heavy cloak.

Rosy cheeks and all.

Surrounded by a pair of boys who you would later find out to be her friends.

You really should have heeded the first warning sign when you’d found out she was the friend of Harry Potter.

The boy’s legend preceded him.

And really was a precursor to the evil to come.

The blasted war.

You can do naught but shudder at the memories.

They’re all you have to comfort you.

Every touch.

Every whisper.

The instant you’d laid eyes upon her, you knew.

You just knew.

She was your one.

Your chosen.

Your mate.

The one person put on this earth meant to be your perfect piece.

Your other half.

Your mother and grandmother had educated you well in the ways of your heritage.

Your veela blood, single out just one.

One meant solely for you.

The rest was up to you.

To pursue.

To woo.

To hope to all on this beautiful earth that they’d choose you in turn.

Growing up it’d been the thing of fairy tales.

A fated person.

Meant on this earth for you alone.

Who you’d fall completely and irrevocably in love with.

You’d look up into the sky late at night and wonder if your chosen was looking at the same stars.

Wondered what type of person they’d be.

Another with veela blood perhaps?

A wizard?

Witch?

Or perhaps a muggle?

The latter would make you giggle to yourself.

It would not matter.

When the moment came.

You wouldn’t care if they were a troll.

They’d be yours.

And you’d be theirs.

And all else would be second nature.

Like a moth to a flame you’d be drawn.

And you wouldn’t care who dared to come in your way.

You’d find a way.

If it hadn’t been for the blasted war.

The war that tore you apart.

The ever increasing threat of capture and containment.

For that was what awaited you.

And any with mixed blood status.

Whether creature, half blood or muggle-born.

It would befall all that met the criteria.

The British in their prudish ways were too cowardly to admit it.

But you could see the threat of persecution coming.

Could feel it in your bones.

Your innate nature telling you to take your mate and flee.

And you’d debated it an afternoon or two when Hermione had been over to your flat.

As she’d allowed you to curl around her and hold her close.

As she’d allowed you to kiss her tears away.

For your fears were her’s as well.

And you’d done all you could to reassure her that it would all turn out ok in the end.

Even if you hadn’t believed those words yourself.

The reality was a lot more bleak than you’d been willing to admit.

It’d all started before you’d even first set foot on British soil back in your final year of schooling.

It’d been requested of you and all others in your delegation, of students hoping to compete in the TriWizard Tournament, that you’d need to divulge the status of your blood.

An archain request really.

Your maman and papa had raged when they’d been made aware.

It was a law to state one’s blood status in Wizarding Britain.

Such discriminatory laws had not existed in France for many a millennia.

Your country of origin was incredibly inclusive and did not dare judge any based on the status of their blood.

To do so was considered barbaric.

In your youth you had not heeded the cruel nature of the request.

Your parents however had, and had pleaded with you not to participate in the Tournament.

However in your rebellious youth, you’d not heeded their words.

And had boldly claimed to be of age to make decisions for yourself.

They’d tried all in their power to convince you otherwise.

But you’d been dead set on traveling to England and participating.

You were Fleur Delacour, top student at Académie de Magie Beauxbâtons.

You were the best your school had and you would make a name for yourself.

All would know your name and your magical prowess when you came home with the Chalice of Champions.

The TriWizard Cup!

How young and naïve you’d been.

But looking back on those days.

You wouldn’t change a thing.

For it was what lead you to _her._

Hermione Granger.

Brightest Witch of her Age.

Or so the rumors told when you’d inquired about the Hogwarts student populace about the girl.

She was smart.

And witty as you’d overheard a conversation or two.

And you had to have her.

And so you pursued her.

Made a point to study in the Hogwarts Library every chance you got.

Much to her chagrin as it seemed that no matter how many times you chanced to try to strike up a conversation, she’d rebuff you.

But you had not deterred.

You were fated.

And every cell in your being came to life in ways you hadn’t known could be possible.

There was no way you’d pass up an opportunity to be close to her.

And so that tumultuous year progressed.

And somewhere between the second and third task she’d finally decided to acknowledge your insistence on a friendship.

Only took a rather public outrage on your part against the Durmstrang Champion Victor Krum about the manner of his handling his chosen treasure from the lake, to get her to see that you were earnest.

The boy had dared to use a partial transfiguration shark head to handle your mate!

You wouldn’t stand for it.

And you really hadn’t.

Not with the way his whole person reddened at the public scolding.

Yes, it was after that day.

That she’d decided to inquire as to what you wanted with her.

No more avoidance.

Simply sincerity.

And so you’d been honest.

And laid yourself bare to her.

It was both terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

You both feared the rejection and potential acceptance all at once.

But as your maman and grandmere had been quick to reassure you all those years ago.

Your mate would understand you.

And so she did.

She was muggleborn.

Not raised in a wizarding family.

And so she did not shy in the face of foreign concepts.

New otherworldly experiences.

Instead she met them head on and tried to understand them.

Strived to know all that she could.

And so you found yourself with an understanding partner.

One that did not attack.

But rather tried all that she could to understand you and your culture.

And in turn you.

As the year wound down you found yourself holding yourself back from almost kisses.

The need.

The want.

The urge becoming harder as the days ticked by.

The veela blood within you aching to touch.

To consume.

To make Hermione Granger yours.

But you’d held back.

For she’d only been about fifteen years of age.

And you were already seventeen.

An adult by wizarding standards.

And you hadn’t wanted to pressure her into anything.

You’d rather things take their natural course.

And so they had.

You grew close.

You opened yourself up to her.

Told her all your secrets.

Confided in her.

Your hopes.

Dreams.

And she in turn.

Confided in you.

As the war loomed in the horizon.

You held her close.

And even were pleasantly surprised when she’d surprised you with a kiss to the corner of your mouth when you’d departed from england.

You’d pulled her into an embrace.

Daring the on-lookers to stop you.

As the chatter about you quieted and all eyes fell on you.

It did not matter in that moment.

Only you and her.

You promised to owl her.

And that you’d see her soon.

She’d given you a quizzical look and with a twinkle in your eye you said _‘je t’aime’_

Surprising both her and yourself at the declaration.

And with that last farewell you departed.

Back to France.

Where you made it a point to declare it proudly to your parents.

You had found your mate.

And you would not be parted from her.

Your parents had been both elated and fearful for you.

For they knew the true burden of the prejudice you’d have to bear.

If you went back to England.

But in your youth.

You had not listened.

You had not heeded their words.

You were young.

And in love!

Nothing could touch you.

Nothing could hold you back.

From being with Hermione.

And it would not.

As you set out to find employment in the land you’d just visited.

At the first whisper of an opening you found yourself back.

As if you’d never been gone to begin with.

You found yourself back on foreign soil.

Had secured for yourself a job.

As a cursebreaker no-less.

For Gringots Bank.

Where you met William Weasley.

A pleasant enough young man.

Even if he had had ulterior motives to woo you at first.

He’d quickly been put in place when you’d informed him that you already had someone special to your heart.

And no wizard or witch could part you from them.

Nor would you have allowed it to occur.

You were her’s and she was yours.

He’d been put out at first, but had recovered quickly after a suggestion from you about the Clearwater young lady that worked at the bookshop down the street.

You’d become good friends soon after.

And he’d even cover a shift or two for you when you’d opted to spend a couple extra days in Hogsmeade to visit Hermione.

Looking back you were rather grateful for those moments.

When you could simply just be young.

And in love.

When you experienced your firsts with Hermione.

On your fourth visit to Hogsmeade she’d surprised you with a kiss.

It had taken you back.

But it had been pleasantly accepted.

Your soul came alive at the mere kiss.

And all the others that came after.

For in them they held promise.

Of more.

Of a future.

You held onto that promise.

You held onto it tightly.

Kept it close and let it get you through the tough days.

As you faced discrimination at work from your colleagues for your blood status.

Had the British always been such discriminatory creatures?

Suppose so.

Your maman and papa had tried to warn you.

But in your rebellion you had not listened.

Bill had come to your rescue once or twice.

Even getting into an altercation or two.

And it was in those moments that the seeds of doubt started to take root.

Not for your love.

Not for the passion and the feelings of understanding and safety that you felt in Hermione.

But in the foregn land that you had submitted yourself to.

To the discrimination.

To feeling like a 2nd class citizen.

It was then that you should have voiced something to her.

If you could go back and do it over.

You would.

Oh how you would!

For it was then that the first thoughts of leaving it all behind had started to form.

And they only ate away at you as the days passed.

As the war loomed in the horizon.

As your bond with Hermione grew ever closer to completion.

For it was with its completion that you would be tied together for eternity.

A spiritual marriage of sorts.

Would be the simplest way to describe it.

When two souls completely and irrevocably gave themselves to each other.

A connection that could not be broken.

And would not be broken.

Till the end of your days.

As you’d explained it to your love.

She had started to understand its meaning as the days ticked by.

As you each felt the irreversible pull start to strengthen.

In those days you’d felt so connected to your chosen.

To your mate.

You think on those days fondly.

If only.

You hadn’t been such a coward.

The war was soon upon you.

Hermione had just confessed her plan to perform an irreiversable spell on her parents.

To erase their memories in order to keep them safe.

You’d understood.

Had even offered to sequester them in France at your parent’s estate instead.

But she’d turned you down.

It would only put more people in danger.

_“I’d be putting a target on your family Fleur, I couldn’t do that….. This is…..the only way,”_

You’d protested that it hadn’t.

But in the end she’d been adamant.

Stubborn brave lioness your love was.

And so you did the only think you could think to do.

You held her.

As her tears streamed down her cheeks you held her.

Kissed her tear streaked skin.

And whispered encouraging words to her.

It would be alright.

She had you.

_“I would never leave you,”_

Such a false promise you’d uttered.

If you could go back in time and knock sense into yourself you would.

You would tell yourself to stay!

Stay! You foolish girl!

She’d needed you the most in that time.

And what had you done.

You’d ran.

The morning she left your flat to perform the spell you’d seen her off with a lingering kiss.

Had told her _“I’ll be ere when you return,”_ and kissed her sweetly.

She’d hugged you so tightly then.

And believed you.

She had no way of knowing you would just up and leave.

You’d decided to do so a couple weeks prior.

The bond.

Such a lovely thing.

Mean to symbolize an eternal connection between veela and mate.

Would only hinder her.

Once complete, should anything befall you so it would to her in turn.

If you fell in battle.

If you died.

So would she.

And as the war loomed ever closer.

You could feel the danger.

Could feel the weight of the responsibility thrust upon you.

There would be an immediate target on your back.

And you would not chance marking Hermione for death should anything befall you.

You could not.

Could not.

It would absolutely destroy you.

She had a mission.

Had been meant to help the Boy Who Lived defeat the great evil since that first train ride to Ogwarts.

She had a destiny to fulfill.

And you could not.

Would not!

Be a hindrance.

And so you left.

It was the only thing you could do.

It took every bit of strength within you to utter the spell.

But you did in the end.

And you packed.

Shrinked everything down into a bag with an extendable charm in it.

As you’d shown Hermione how to do.

And you took the nearest floo to the nearest channel cross floo network.

Your parents had been surprised to see you on their doorstep.

Surprised but relieved.

They’d known the danger.

The fear all along.

But they could do nothing to stop you.

You’d needed to come to the realization on your own.

You’d collapsed in their arms and sobbed your frustration.

Your regret.

You should have left her a note.

Anything to tell her your dilemma.

To help her understand.

But you knew your love.

You understood her completely.

As she did you.

She would not take it lying down.

She would fight for you.

This had been the only way.

Here in France no one would dare harm you.

Your father was a pureblood of high standing amongst the wizarding nobility.

The once pureblooded house of Delacour was a powerful family that had helped form the country of wizarding France.

Descended from the brother of King Louis XIV the Sun King of France.

Prince Philippe I d’Orleans.

Your line was long and rich in history.

No one would dare harm you.

Here you were safe.

Safe to keep from potential danger.

To keep _her_ from potential danger.

It was cruel.

To her.

To you.

But a necessary cruelty.

This would keep her safe.

And it was almost poetic how seamlessly you assimilated back to your place within Wizarding French society.

As the Heiress of House Delacour of France.

You took up a position interning for a high ranking ministry official while you bid your time.

Tried in vain to ignore any news that dared come from across the channel.

Of the war.

You could not bare it if you heard the worst about your mate.

Sent a silent prayer into the universe each night for her safety.

And thanked your lucky stars on the days you heard nothing.

Nothing was better than something in those days.

And as the war wound down.

So did your hope.

The nothing stretched into endless days of hearing little but all about the war front in Britain.

You threw yourself into your work to keep you busy.

And sought solace in old school friends.

And spent your days between catching up with old friends and working in the ministry.

Until the day came.

The war had ended.

Harry Potter had prevailed victorious against the evil Lord Voldemort.

He’d been obliterated into ashes.

His followers rounded up.

The world was safe.

And could breathe easy once more.

You should have gone back then.

Should have dropped what you were doing and taken the next cross channel floo available to England.

But you hadn’t.

So many ifs still lingered.

Would she accept you back?

Everything would not go back to how it was before you left.

You knew that.

Understood it even.

But you did not go back.

Your father had fallen ill around the same time.

And his hereditary position as a chair in the French ministry would need to taken over.

So it would fall to you.

In a time as crucial.

You’d swallowed your desire.

Your want.

And stayed.

You stayed in France.

And assumed your place in your father’s stead.

Your family needed you.

And you’d been raised to honor your commitments.

You’d been groomed for the position your whole life.

And so you stayed.

You did not buck your responsibilities.

Tu es resté putain!

You should have left then.

Should have gone to her.

But you didn’t.

You stayed!

And allowed the years to pass you by.

Hoping that one day you’d get the opportunity.

One day you’d get the chance to make it right!

To find her again and make amends.

Could only hope that she’d still be waiting for you.

She loved you.

_“I love you Fleur,”_

You held those words close to your heart.

They were what held you from breaking apart most days.

Your heart forever longed to be with her.

And it would not stop until you were.

Who would have thought that a chance meeting would occur.

That you would be lucky enough to see Hermione after all these years.

Could only marvel at her beauty as she walked into the meeting room you and your team had been assigned within the British Ministry.

The look of shock was as evident on her face as it must have been on yours.

The years had been kind to your love.

She had grown from a precarious girl, running around with those two friends of hers.

To a beautiful woman who’s beauty radiated throughout and who’d blossomed into a force to be reckoned with.

The Senior Under Secretary to the Minister for Magic no less!

You had always known that she would do great things.

Had heard little tid bits here and there of her achievements.

For they were numerous.

Bringing about and heading many major pieces of legislation for equality.

To put an end to old archaic values and instill acceptance and equality for all for England.

You could not be prouder.

She was still everything you could ever hope for.

And you found yourself unable to keep your eyes off of her as the days wore on.

It would seem however that she was doing all in her power to avoid you.

Much to your woe.

Surely she felt the pull as much as you did.

There was no way she could not.

You’d been so close to completing the bond all those years ago.

The connection between veela and mate was a powerful thing.

It could not be easily severed.

The bond had not been completed.

But she had accepted you.

Had been instrumental in initiating it.

Like two magnets seeking to be joined.

So would she feel the pull as you did.

It grated and gripped at your heart as the days ticked by.

Your initial outing with her had not ended on the right terms.

She was angry.

Much as you figured would be the case.

After all, you had hurt her.

But you were trying to make amends.

Surely she could see that?

You could only hope she’d meet you half way.

Until she’d uttered those cursed words on that wretched day you’d tried to ask her to spend some time with you, under the pretence of looking over some documentation.

_“I’ve a tasting to get to for my wedding,”_

Wedding.

Wedding.

**Wedding.**

The word rang in your head like the bells of Notre-Dame.

H-Hermione was engaged to be married.

She was getting married.

To someone other than you?

How?

When?

So many questions ran about in your head.

Seeking to make sense of this new development.

And you had to know who.

Who had made Hermione so taken with them that she’d want to marry them!?

And so you ventured about magical England, asking, inquiring as to who it could be.

Until you’d overheard one of Hermione’s colleagues making small talk about the event.

“Going to be the wedding of the century, she’s the last of the Golden Trio to get hitched,” the man had chuckled to others on the British delegation.

“And to a Greengrass no less! Lucky sod!” Another colleague imputed much to the amusement of the people surrounding him.

“Here here!”

“Daphne Greengrass is set to inherit her father’s place on the Wizengamont is she not?” another inquiry from another man.

“Aye, she’s set to inherit the entire Greengrass fortune! She’s the next head!”

A pureblood.

She was engaged to a pureblood.

And not just a simple pureblood.

But a pureblood in high standing.

One on equal standing to yours.

You could almost curse your unlucky stars there.

Out of all the people you could have imagined for Hermione.

You could not have expected this.

You could not intimidate this one.

Or perhaps you could?

Heavens no.

The rational part of you told you to move on.

To try to forget her.

And let her be happy.

It was after all you who had left her.

You had no right to feel betrayed.

You brought this on yourself.

But the veela within.

It would not yield.

It urged you to fight on!

To fight for your love!

For your mate.

You were her’s.

And she was yours!

As it was meant to be.

And as it should.

You understood that.

You could not tame it.

Even if you wanted to.

And so you sought her out once more.

Tried to explain yourself.

Tried to convey how you felt.

In the chance that she felt the same for you still.

She had to right?

Surely she must feel the pull.

Her abrupt departure giving you a sinking feeling.

You race after her.

And do the only thing that you can think of in that moment.

You capture her lips in yours and convey all of your emotions.

Your earnest feelings.

For you may have just those moments.

One final time.

She pushes back from you for a split second.

Before meeting your fervor head on.

And you battle it out, a battle of wills.

You can feel her anger.

Her sadness.

Her desolation.

And you can do nothing but allow her to convey that to you.

You must give her the opportunity to properly show you how much you’ve hurt her.

You know you have.

It happens in an instant.

Its between the look she gives you as she pulls back from you.

And the mutual understanding that transposes.

But you find yourself apparating the two of you to your hotel room.

Its truly a battle of wills then.

The fumbling of clothes.

Lips against lips.

Rough touches.

As she shows you just how much you’ve hurt her.

And your frustration for the state of things and how you let it get so bad.

Its not what you were hoping for.

But it must be for the sake of healing.

A trepid start.

No words are exchanged when its over.

Sex lingers in the air.

The proof of what's transpired between you two.

You make to reach out to the woman laying beside you.

Before she suddenly gets up and starts fumbling around for her clothes.

You don’t dare utter a word.

You only watch on as she finishes putting on her coat and returns your stare.

No words leave her lips.

Before she turns and apparates away.

No words be need said.

She can feel the pull.

\----------------- xxxxx ---------------

Its wretched.

You're wretched.

Her touch still lingers on you even as you try to scrub it away.

The feel of the water as it rains down upon your skin.

Can do little to staunch the ache you feel inside.

Those long ago feelings.

The feelings that you’d locked away.

That you ‘d been sure where long gone.

They’ve all come back like a freight train.

Hitting you all at once and consuming you.

Ensnaring you once more.

You try to will them away.

But you cannot.

What had you been thinking!

What had you done!

You’d betrayed the love of a good woman!

The woman that’d been there by your side when you’d woken up inconsolable in the middle of night.

That had comforted you when you could not bring yourself to do anything, let alone bring your parents back.

Daphne had been there for you through everything.

And how had you repaid her?

By sleeping with your ex.

You shudder to yourself as you recall the events of the past hour.

Every touch, every kiss.

Every cell in your being coming to life!

You shake the thought from you.

Turning the faucet off to stop the water from pouring out and grab a nearby towel to dry yourself off.

“What a pleasant surprise” Daphne’s sweet melodious voice filters through and you turn to face her.

Standing in the entryway to the bathroom is the woman herself, Daphne.

She’s wearing that light green sweater you absolutely love on her with a pair of simple grey joggers.

A present you’d gifted to her a few years ago.

Her blonde hair is done up in a messy bun and she’s looking at you with an amused expression.

“Miss me?” you playfully ask, an attempt to navigate the conversation to safer topics.

To help you forget what you’ve just done.

“Always,” she says with that playful smile you love so much, she crosses the distance between you and cups your cheeks to pull you into a kiss.

You close your eyes and allow yourself to fall into her as you deepen it.

Wrapping your arm around her waist you pull her closer and try to forget.

You're a wretched thing.

Betraying your fiance for a woman who left you all those years ago.

You're despicable.

But it does not stop you from trying to forget, and so you whisk Daphne in your arms and carry her to your bedroom.

And you lose yourself in her.

That past is the past and that is where it should stay.

It has no room in your present.

In your future.

Or so you tell yourself as you kiss your way down Daphne’s body.

No room.

You think to yourself as you whisper “I love you’s”

Right?

\------- xxxx---------

You roll off of Fleur in a sweaty heap.

Willing your rapidly beating heart to stop.

The day had been meant to go smoothly.

Negotiations would continue as planned, and at the end of the day you’d ask Fleur to have a cup of coffee with you at that same secluded coffee shop in muggle london.

And you’d tell her that the night before had been a mistake.

You could not and would not betray Daphne.

That woman that you loved.

You’d leave things at that and leave.

Never to touch in that way ever again with Fleur.

But yet here you found yourself.

Lying in a heap of your own mess.

The mess you created when you allowed yourself to be brought back to Fleur’s hotel room for the 2nd time.

And allowed yourself to give in to your deepest desires.

Could not contain yourself from submitting before her proverbial alter.

And worshipping her.

The guilt that ate away at you buried to the back of your mind.

You’d worry about the fact that you were betraying your fiance later.

For now you had more pressing matters.

Fleur curls into your side as she runs her finger across your arm.

You don’t turn to face her.

You can’t bring yourself to.

For fear of what you may do.

What do you do?

I mean really?

“Can you stay ze night?” her question takes you from your reverie.

You choose to sit up.

Her hand falls from your body and she looks up at you as you put your hand to your temple.

You let out a sigh.

“I need to get home,” you utter.

You make to get off the bed before her hand catches you by the wrist.

You still.

Her touch is soft and warm.

Inviting.

No! You musn’t feel this way.

“I think zat we need to talk about zis,” her words startle you.

“This?” you utter back.

You’re not ready for this conversation.

Not when you yourself don’t even know what ‘this’ even is!

“Oui, we did just ‘ave relations” her amused tone catches you off guard and you finally turn to face her.

“I-I just-

“Too much non?” she cuts you off.

A mix between amusement and sadness on her features.

You wish you could give her further reassurance.

Regardless of your mixed emotions towards the woman before you.

You still loved her once.

And you don’t want to hurt her.

Regardless of the actions you’ve taken.

Instead you nod in turn.

And in a surprise to both you and her.

You gather her hands to you and place a simple kiss to her knuckles.

“Soon,” you respond, its the only word you can offer at the moment.

She accepts it for now.

And you’re grateful.

You pull back releasing her hands from yours and get up to gather your clothing to you.

You can’t deny the pull you feel for her.

Its there.

And as much as you will it away.

It will not.

You sigh to yourself as you finish tying the laces to your shoes.

A present from Daphne’s mother a few christmases ago.

You were a right foul git, as Ron would say.

There was much to untangle here.

But you would leave that for another day.

Or as long as Fleur would give you to figure yourself out.

Let alone Daphne.

Daphne.

It tore at your heartstrings.

You’d have to come clean about this.

Affair?

That’s what it was after all.

You give Fleur a final lingering smile before you disaparate.

“I was wondering when you’d be back,” Daphne’s amused tone catches your attention as you step foot inside the modest living room of your shared home.

What greets you is a sight.

Daphne is sitting on one end of your custom made couches while your soon to be brother and sister in law sit across from her, their two year old son in Draco’s arms.

“What a pleasant surprise,” you say as you greet your guests and take your place beside Daphne.

“We were beginning to wonder about you Granger,” Draco playfully says.

You brush it off with a light chuckle, but you’re unable to shake off the uneasiness you feel at the words.

“Lots of work to get done Malfoy, equality won’t ensure itself now will it?” you reply in turn, playing off the uneasiness you feel at the depth of which his words have cut you.

“Too right,” his response as you engage in playful conversation with your guest and soon to be nephew.

Later as the night progresses and Daphne and her sister have shoed you and Draco away for a spot of sister-time, you find yourself in your elegantly styled kitchen sipping a brandy beside the man who used to make Harry’s life an absolute annoyance in your school days.

Funny how life works.

“How’s ministry life treating you?” he asks as he takes a sip from his glass.

“Busy as usual, but that’s bureaucracy,” you respond in turn.

“Of course, I could never bring myself to do it, not after all the war,” he muses and takes a big sip of his drink.

“If we have a platform to stand on, its our responsibility to make a difference, a change for those that can’t, or at least that’s what I’ve always thought,” you respond.

The unspoken silently understood reason for your ardent passion for equality a mutual understanding between you two.

“Here’s to that,” he responds in turn as he raises his glass before downing the rest of his drink.

“I suppose the ladies should be wrapping up, Scorpius has to be put to bed at a reasonable hour,” he says as you both start to make your way back to the living room.

“And try to be careful with whatever you’re doing in the ministry,” he comments.

This stops you in your tracks.

Your blood runs cold.

“The look on your face, its the same one my father had when he’d come home to me and my mother after a day at the ministry,”

“I-I’m not,” you try to explain.

Your pulse has quickened and you feel like you’re going to be sick.

“No need for an explanation, just be careful alright? Politics is always messy,” he advises as he makes his way into your living room.

You follow right in tow.

You watch as he takes his son from Astoria and cradles him close.

You move to Daphne’s side once more and bid your farewells.

The sight touches and warms your heart.

You want nothing more than to have a family of your own one day.

One of your secret ardent wishes.

But do you see Daphne standing beside you while you fawn over your child.

Or is it Fleur?

“That’ll be us one day,” Daphne says as she takes your arm and leans into you.

You can only nod and pull her to you.

You wrap your arms around her and hold her close.

One day.

\-----------xxxxx------------

“If all else I didn’t mean to ‘urt you,” Fleur says as an onslaught of fresh tears stain her perfectly porcelain skin once more.

Her eyes red and puffy and her cheeks wet to the touch.

You’d meant to have a serious talk with Fleur after your teams had deliberated for the evening.

And so you’d both made your way back to her hotel room once more.

Thankfully this time no sexual actions occurring.

Simply talk.

You’d decided you needed to air out the unspoken problems between you.

And you’d meant to tell her that you could not leave a relationship to a woman that had been there for you through the horrors of the war.

Who you loved.

You’d opened yourself up as you sat on Fleur’s bed.

And told her your struggles.

Your horrors.

The torture you’d agonized in during and after the war.

And of course how you and Daphne had met and fallen in love.

Your subconscious told you that you owed her that much.

Although the reasonable side of you said otherwise.

She’d listened and shed a few tears as you’d recalled how Bellatrix Lestrange had carved into you.

She’d asked to see your arm.

You’d accommodated her request by rolling up your sleeve and putting forth your arm.

The ugly jaggad letters spelling _mudblood_ still ever present.

She’d cried over your arm as the letters stared back at her.

“I should ‘ave been zere,” she’d uttered as her tears fell.

You said nothing in turn as you watched the older witch’s inner turmoil.

She waited until you were done with your tale before apologizing to you.

And conveying her grief.

Her emotions.

And finally the reason why she left you all those years ago.

**_The bond._ **

****

A combination of reasons really, discrimination, the looming persecution, and lastly family obligation.

But ultimately.

**The bond.**

The one thing that you’d almost completed had Fleur given you the chance.

You’d been 3/4ths of the way to its completion when she’d left.

The reasoning for the pull you felt.

And in the end you had to admit it to yourself.

The reality of the situation.

Now matter how much she’d hurt you.

You still loved her.

Were eternally bound to this woman.

You’d been willing to completely be bound to her back then.

And that hasn’t changed now.

No matter the years that have passed.

You couldn’t lie to yourself.

Not for long at least.

You still wanted the woman before you.

But where are you willing to toss your life aside for her?

The life you’d built.

The love of a good woman.

A woman that you loved.

But more than what you felt for Fleur?

No.

You had to be honest with yourself.

You could never love another the way you loved Fleur.

She took your heart with her all those years ago.

And she never gave it back.

“I don’t ask you to forgive me,” Fleur’s plea takes you from your thoughts.

You hold a hand out to still her.

“You really hurt me all those years ago, its true,”

You take a deep intake of air.

“But I understand,”

You do.

You very much do.

In your youth you would have tried to tie yourself to Fleur regardless of the consequences.

And you’d have endangered both your lives in the process.

You shudder to think what could have happened during the war should either one of you perish before helping Harry defeat Voldemort.

“I love you Fleur, I never stopped,” you admit aloud.

Your soul laid bare.

Fleur’s tears continue to spill forth as she throws her arms around your neck.

You hold her to you.

And allow your own tears to spill forth.

You don’t know what the future holds.

But in this moment your soul feels lighter.

Lighter than it has in years.

\------------xxxxxx---------

“How’d it go today?” Daphne asks as you enter the kitchen.

She has a mess of parchment scattered about the kitchen island.

Most likely wedding preparations.

Your nerves stand on edge as you think about it.

Its a few months away.

And you should be happy.

And you are.

But you're also confused.

You love Fleur.

But you also love Daphne.

But is it enough?

“Good, I think we’re really getting somewhere smoothing out the kinks in the bill,” you respond as you walk up to Daphne and give her a kiss on the cheek.

“Did you have a good day?”

She chuckles beside you.

“As good a day as one can have with their mother constantly nitpicking the final color sets for the table cloths,”

You chuckle at that.

And listen on as she continues to tell you about the preparations.

\-------xxxxxx--------

You shudder as you come undone.

Fleur kisses you as you come down from your high.

“I love you,” you utter as Fleur curls into you.

“Je t’aime aussi,” she responds in turn.

It's been three weeks since you admitted that you loved Fleur.

Three weeks of loving Fleur and being loved in turn by her.

Three weeks of sneaking around behind Daphne’s back.

Of deceiving the woman you were set to marry.

You had a decision to make.

And soon.

It wasn’t fair to Daphne or Fleur.

Your pending nuptials were two months away.

You could only hope that you made the right decision in the end.

For everyone’s sakes.

\-------xxxxxxx-------

“Merci,” you thank the doorman as you make your way out of the hotel.

Today was the last week that you’d be in this country working on helping the english with the transition of the new blood equality law.

A week left to be with Hermione.

You’d debated what to do as you entangled yourself with the younger witch in the previous weeks.

Do you just leave and go back to France once your job was done.

And forget about all of this?

Leave Hermione to live her life?

She was still engaged and that wasn’t going to change anytime soon.

She hadn’t mentioned leaving her fiance for you.

Not in the many times you’d fallen into each other’s arms.

Not during any of the ‘I love you’s’ you’d each uttered to the other.

You’d talked in great detail about your dreams and your aspirations.

As if time hadn’t gotten in the way.

Like you had when you’d been teenagers.

Never once bringing up the topic of your nearing departure or her wedding.

Th wedding of the century your colleagues kept uttering as the days ticked by.

Hermione had received many congratulations during the time you’d been working together.

Her life was set here.

Would she leave it for you?

Disrupt the normalcy of it all to be with you?

Would she even want to?

You make your way down the busy streets of London before nearing the familiar phone booth, a secret entrance into the ministry.

A woman leans against it as you near.

Her blonde hair is familiar and you don’t know quite where you’ve seen her before.

An eerie feeling befalls you as you grab ahold of the phone booth door.

In an instant she’s beside you.

The eerie feeling increasing within you.

“Fleur Delacour?” the woman asks, she’s dressed in an elegant emerald green blouse, a pair of dark jeans and a black coat.

“Oui?” you respond in turn unsure as to where you’ve seen this woman before.

She seems oddly familiar.

“Daphne Greengrass, Hermione’s fiance, pleasure,” she says as she extends her hand out for you to take. Eyes boring into you.

You can feel the heat of their intensity.

The weight of their accusatory look pressing into you.

Had you been a lesser woman you might have buckled underneath their weight.

But you were not a lesser witch.

You were Fleur Delacour, you did not yield in the face of adversity.

“Pleasure to meet you,” you respond as you extend your hand out and shake her hand.

It only takes a split second but you feel a pull and twist.

A second later you reappear across a grassy plain overlooking the ocean.

A beautiful view but where had this woman taken you?

“These are the grounds that Hermione and I own, we won’t be disturbed here,” Daphne says, a bite to her voice.

“Why ‘ave you brought me ‘ere?” You question.

She has an arm on her hip and she’s looking at you with all the intensity of a snake about to strike its prey.

“I think we both know why we’re here,” she calmly responds eyes never leaving you.

“‘Ermione,” your simple response.

“Aye, Hermione, my fiance, the golden girl and the most selfless woman in england, the woman you’ve been enticing to your bed for weeks,” Daphne bites at you with an eerie calmness.

Expression remaining neutral as she sizes you up.

“She told you?” you ask.

“No, I’ve been suspecting it for a week or so, I just had to pick up a newspaper to figure out who she was working with on the french delegation side of things, and a simple inquiry with a colleague of my father’s informed me that she’d been leaving alongside you every meeting,”

You say nothing in turn.

“I was able to put two and two together rather easily after that,” she finishes as she stares you up and down.

“I’m not giving her up that easily,” you respond. Hackles rising. This woman meant to scare you off, well she’d have another thing coming if she thought she could get rid of you that easily.

“You act as if she’d really leave me for you,” she drawls out, expression betraying nothing.

“I’ve been with her through many things, comforted her, supported her for years, I have her ring on my finger, do you really think that a ten year relationship could easily be broken by someone who abandoned her when things got hard?” she bites out at you.

Her words hold weight, she’s attacked your weaknesses.

What you still regret to this day.

“I have my reasons that I don’t need to explain to you, I’ve already explained myself to Ermione and she has accepted me completely,” you respond in turn. You will not buckle beneath this woman.

This interloper that dares come between you and your mate.

“Do you really think she’s leave me for a hussy like you though? Someone who doesn’t respect the sanctity of a relationship! A relationship that’s been going on for years! I was there for her when she would wake up in the middle of the night screaming! Where were you!” Daphne bites out at you.

Her words pierce you deep but you persist.

“I made a mistake, but I am here trying to right my wrongs! I will not leave her!” you respond in turn.

“Can you say for certain? How does she know that you will simply not just leave her at the first sign of trouble again? Can you promise her eternity and well and truly mean it!” she bites back in turn.

Her neutral expression is gone and an expression of fury has replaced it.

“B-Beacause I will not!” you falter.

She’s right, you did leave once and while you can for certain assure Hermione that you will not leave this time.

Will she believe you?

“I love her!” you confidently pronounce.

“So do I!” Daphne responds back in turn.

You stare each other down as you both refuse to break eye contact.

“We can’t both have her,” Daphne states.

“And we will not,” you respond.

“I won’t give up on ‘ere so easily,” you declare.

\------------xxxxxxxx----------------

The day’s meeting had been incredibly profitable.

You were well and truly on the way to wrapping up the legislation in record time.

Fleur had not been in attendance today and you had thought that strange.

You’d have to check up on her, perhaps she’d caught a cold?

You make your way out a side entrance and apparate to her hotel room.

What greets you is a sullen woman.

Fleur is seated on a chair beside the window of the room when you appear.

The pop accompanied by aparation startles her from whatever thought she may have been having as she turns to face you.

Something is off about all of this.

And an unsettling feeling starts to pour into you.

“Do you love me Eermione?” she asks you as she turns to face you.

“What kind of question is that? Of course I love you,” you respond in turn.

If there is anything you’re certain of in this topsy turvy world its that you love Fleur Delacour.

“Would you leave your fiance for me?” she asks you.

In that instant you feel the air sucked out of you.

Your blood runs cold.

And you have to remind yourself to breathe .

Of course she’d ask that.

Her team’s time in england is coming to a close.

And so is your wedding.

Of course you’d have to make a decision eventually.

You’d known that.

You just hadn’t expected that it would be today of all days.

“Leave Daph,” you utter aloud.

The uncertainty laced in your words evident.

Could you really leave Daphne after everything.

You could well and truly forgive Fleur for what she’d done to you all those years ago.

But you didn’t forget.

Could you truly leave a partner that had proven they wouldn't leave you.

For one that had?

You stumble back as the weight of reality hits you.

Could you really trust that Fleur would not leave you again?

“You have your work in France and your family needs you,” you utter as a sort of shield, in an attempt to organize the multitude of thoughts going through your mind.

“I am prepared to leave my work in France, and Gabrielle could always assume ze leadership of my family name when she’s the right age. I only want to be wiz you,” Fleur responds with certainty.

“I am yours completely and unabashedly,” Fleur assures you.

Your heart sings and soars at her words.

And yet you cannot help the feeling of unease that continues to grip you.

What about Daphne?

_What about Daphne._ The small voice at the back of your mind responds back.

Fleur was your mate.

The woman you’ve always wanted.

And she’s here willing to be with you.

She will not leave you again.

But Daphne has been there for you through all of the hard times.

She’s been your content.

Your rock.

“I-I need some time,” you stumble out before you take a couple of steps back.

“I’ll let you know of my decision by the end of the week,” you utter out as you aparate away.

Her heartbroken face is the last thing you see before you re-appear in your home’s entryway.

“Daph!” you call out as you make your way through your home.

“In the study!” she calls back out as you make your way into the study.

She’s pondering over a book when you enter.

The look she gives you makes your blood run cold.

**She knows.**

Dread fills you.

“We need to talk,” you say as she closes her book and looks up to meet your gaze.

“We do,” she responds in turn.

You don’t know where to begin.

“I don’t need to know how, just why?” She asks as she looks at you with misty eyes.

“I-I’m still in love with her,” you utter out.

You let the tears fall freely.

“And how do you feel about me?” she asks.

“”I love you too, I just feel this unexplainable pull towards Fleur….I-I just….I love both of you,” you admit.

“You can’t have us both,” Daphne states, she’s hurt and devastated by the words you’ve just uttered into existence.

Your heart hurts to see her like this.

If anything she was the last person you wanted to ever hurt.

“I know” you respond in acknowledgement.

“I just need time to think,” you plead.

She looks at you with sad soulful eyes before nodding.

“I think its best that you find somewhere else to stay while you sort yourself out,” she suggests.

You can only nod in turn.

You cross the distance between you two and startle her by placing a kiss on her forehead.

“Thank you,” you state.

You take one last good look at her in this moment, committing her to memory.

Before you make your way out of the study and to your shared bedroom.

You mutter a quick spell to make quick work to gather your things.

And make your way out of your home.

The home you’d hoped to oneday grow a family with Daph.

Now.

You’re not sure.

In that moment you go to the only place you know you won’t find judgement.

In the hopes that perhaps some clarity may be found.

Godric’s Hollow.

Harry’s parent’s home.

You and Ron had helped him build it back to its former glory a few years after the war.

Harry’d moved in when he’d married Ginny and they’d started a family.

You take a tentative knock on the front door.

It doesn’t take long for Harry to open the door.

A look of surprise on his face.

“Mione what a surprise! Come in, come in,” he says ushering you inside.

You follow him inside as he closes the door behind you and steers you through the house into his living room.

You take a seat on one of the couches there.

He takes a seat in the one across from you.

“I just finished putting the boys to bed, Ginny’s already in bed her pregnancy is really taking a toll on her,” Harry explains.

You’d just been about to ask about the boys and Ginny.

At the end of the day you didn’t want to intrude.

“So what brings you by?” He asks.

“I cheated on Daph,” you word vomit the words.

Surprising both him and yourself by your sudden admittance.

“You what?” He asks, as if not hearing you right.

You don’t blame him.

He doesn’t hear from you in a couple months due to work and your wedding planning and suddenly you show up on his front door telling him you’ve been unfaithful to your partner of ten or so years.

You must look out of sorts to him.

And so you unload on him the events that have transpired.

Starting from when you saw started working with Fleur, to when Daph and you had the conversation in the study.

You unload on him your feelings and emotions.

The uncertainty of it all.

And how you hadn’t meant to hurt either of them.

You never wanted to be the cause of their unhappiness.

He nods and listens to you as you ramble on.

And on.

And on.

You finally finish your dilemma.

He looks on at you.

“I think you already know what you want,” he says as he looks at you.

“And that is?” You ask in turn.

“That’s not for me to say, but I think you already know what you want, you’re just too afraid to take it,” he says once more.

You stare back at him in turn.

Afraid?

Yes you're afraid.

Your entire life has just been upended.

How do you choose ?

The woman that you’ve been with for years.

Versus the woman that draws this intense passion from you.

“Take your time to think about it it’s not an easy decision to make, in the meantime let me get the guest room ready for you,” he says as he gets up and leaves the room.

You sit there.

A thousand thoughts racing through your head.

Daphne?

Or Fleur?

This and many more thoughts filter through your mind as you lay your head to rest. 

The consequences.

The strife.

You'd have to make a choice and live with them regardless of who you chose.

You can only hope you'd make 'the right one'

You think to yourself as you drift off. 

Tomorrow was another day.

—————-xxxxxxxx——————

The week had dragged on in relative monotony.

The days going at a snails pace.

You’d dedicated yourself to your work, wrapping up the legislation with the French delegation.

Having to see Fleur each day.

And being unable to touch her.

Let alone talk to her about your thoughts.

No.

You’d told her you’d needed the time to think.

And so you had.

You’d thought long and hard about what to do.

Had cried one evening in Ginny’s arms as she’d consoled you.

Harry had filled her in on the goings of your life.

She’d been surprised as she’d said “I thought Ron would be the one caught between two women, not you Mione,” she’d playfully said one day over tea and biscuits.

Both of them had been incredibly supportive of you.

And had assured you no matter what you choose, they’d be there for you.

It really meant a lot.

And now after taking the time to think on it.

And truly ask yourself what you actually wanted.

You had made your decision.

You thanks the French delegation for their hard work and assistance.

There had been a round of applause all around.

Finally your dream would become a reality.

No more would anyone be made feel like a second class citizen based on their blood or race.

Muggleborn, Half-blood, Pureblood.

Creature, Wizard, Witch.

In the end you were all beings trying to co-exist on this earth.

With a final signature it would be sent to Kingsly’s desk for his final seal of approval.

You looked at Fleur across from you.

She looked at you with eyes filled with uncertainty.

You could only offer her a small smile before excusing yourself and departing.

You had made your decision.

Taking purposeful strides you made your way down the hall and to the nearest floo network.

Appearing a moment later in your shared home with Daphne.

You find her reading a book in the living room.

“We need to talk,”

———- xxxxxxxxx————

It had been a long grueling week.

A week filled with longing and sadness.

You wanted to desperately reach out and touch Hermione.

But you couldn’t.

She was not yours to touch.

And she’s asked for space.

Time to think.

It set your nerves on edge as you worried about the possibility of her not choosing you.

She was your mate.

Surely she could feel the pull to you as you felt it for her.

You could only hope and wait.

When you’d finally wrapped up work you’d hoped she would come to you.

But she had not.

She’d only offered you a lackluster smile and excused herself.

And so you sat in your hotel room while your team and the English team celebrated the completion of the bill at a bar.

Had opted for excusing yourself to pack up your things.

You’d be leaving in the early morning.

Against all hope.

She had not chosen you.

You had had your chance with her all those years ago.

And you’d ruined it.

You allow the tears to freely flow as the weight of your new reality settles.

You had loved and lost your mate.

The one perfect person meant for you.

She loved another more than she loved you.

And you would have to accept that.

You allow the sobs to wrack through you.

Why had you left.

You should have stayed.

Dammit you should have stayed.

A sudden pop startles you and you look up.

Standing before you is Hermione.

Her cheeks are tear stained.

And her eyes are puffy.

She looks at you with a mixture of anger and determination.

“Tell me you love me,” she utters.

Your heart rate picks up in an instant and you start to utter the words back before she cuts you off.

“Tell me you love me and that you won’t leave, you won’t leave me again, that you love me enough to stay and be by my side,” she sniffs and fights back a sob before continuing.

“That I didn’t just leave a wonderful woman for someone who’s going to one day leave me,” she stares at you head on and does not break eye contact.

“I won’t ever leave you again, you’re all I’ve ever wanted, I’m yours cómpletely and eternally,” you say as you cross the distance between you and capture her lips in yours.

“I promise to love you, in sickness and in health, to ze end of my days, one flesh, one heart, one soul,” you mutter into her hair as you hold her to you.

She grips you to her tightly.

As if fearing you’ll disappear.

You pull back slightly after a moment to properly gaze upon her.

A glow has befallen the two of you as you stare at the radiance of it all.

“What is?” She asks, seeing the glow.

“Ze bond has been completed,” you utter in amazement.

Remembering the final step to mark your new future together.

“With zis kiss I pledge my love,” you say and pull her lips to yours.

They're warm.

Enviting.

And completely and eternally yours.


End file.
